


I could see the midnight sun

by goodandsafe



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hollstein - Freeform, New Year's Eve, Smut, a lil smut anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodandsafe/pseuds/goodandsafe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You really don’t know how you got here, pushed up against the bathroom door with Carmilla’s hand in your pants during LaFontaine and Perry’s New Year’s Eve party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I could see the midnight sun

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting but this just kinda bubbled out of me. Any mistakes are mine and I don't own these characters, obvs. Just a lil NYE lovin' for Hollstein. Hope you like! :)

You really don’t know how you got here, pushed up against the bathroom door with Carmilla’s hand in your pants during LaFontaine and Perry’s New Year’s Eve party.

Except yeah, okay, you _totally_ know. It had started off innocently enough or, as innocently as anything between you and her can ever be. Carmilla was glued to your side all day, which isn’t out of the ordinary; yours is a very physical relationship. Since that first kiss (and the second and third and fourth) in your dorm, the one that tasted faintly of ashes but mostly of starlight, the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other. That first night she was back, Carmilla pushed your beds together because _don’t get me wrong, cupcake, being smushed together in a twin bed sounds great, but this’ll give us more room_ and you’ve slept tangled up in one another ever since.

In your everyday movements, whether you’re in the room you share, out for a walk or dinner, at a party, whatever, one of you always finds a reason to be touching the other.

Usually it’s tame, but not tonight.

At dinner with LaF and Perry, her hand fell onto your thigh and kept creeping up, up, up until her fingers were dancing over the apex of your jeans. Every time she pushed too hard against your center and you gasped, her hand retreated and you were left frustrated for more than one reason.

You’d volunteered yourself and Carm to help Perry decorate for the party -- which your girlfriend was obviously not excited about -- and she spent the whole time “accidentally” brushing past you, pressing her body into yours, and whispering sultry apologies in your ear.

Then the party began and Carmilla did absolutely nothing but continue to tease you. She pulled you onto the makeshift dance floor early on, fitting your back to her front, and the two of you moved in tandem. Carm’s hands explored your body while yours stayed locked, up and behind you, around the back of her neck, keeping her in place. When she started dropping hot kisses on your neck, you couldn’t take it anymore, so you spun on your heel and kissed her hard on the mouth.

[If waltzing may as well have been sex in 1698, you can’t _imagine_ what they would have thought of the display you two are putting on now.]

Carmilla pulls away from you after a few minutes and says, “Let’s get a drink. It’s getting a little hot in here.”

You dip in for another kiss, this time softer, before the two of you move to the kitchen, hand-in-hand, to make drinks. The two of you stay there once Carmilla gets involved in an argument between Kirsch and Danny about renaissance-era artists -- a topic you weren’t even aware Kirsch had an opinion on. After a few drinks, your head feels lighter and you can see Carmilla’s shoulders relax. She’s always wound a little tight around your friends, but you think she’s starting to see them as her friends too, even if she won’t admit it.

“Bathroom break,” you chirp when there’s a lull in the conversation. You press a messy kiss to Carmilla’s cheek before weaving through the throngs of people that have gathered in Laf and Perry’s apartment.

You’re washing your hands in the bathroom when there’s a knock on the door.

“Just a minute!” you call.

“It’s me,” you hear Carmilla say through the door.

You dry your hands and pull the door open, only for Carmilla to enter and push you against it. With one hand on your waist and the other tangled in your hair, her lips move against yours and every bit of teasing she’s done all day is coming to a head. Carmilla cups your center and you throw your head back, hitting it against the door with a soft _thunk_.

“Carm, there are -- oh _god_ \-- there are people out there. We can’t-- what are you --”

“There’s eleven minutes until midnight. I want to ring in the new year making the girl I love scream my name in ecstasy; I really don’t see the problem with that,” she says, feigning innocence.

Your hands fly up to her cheeks and pull her in for a kiss and you can feel the smile on Carmilla’s lips. You’re past the point of patience and Carmilla knows how worked up you are, how worked up she’s made you. Her hands reach for the button on your jeans and you don’t stop her, but you mumble against her lips.

“What if someone hears us?”

“Lucky them,” she says before diving back in with a searing hot kiss. Her mouth moves from yours to your jaw to your neck and the words tumble out of you.

“I love you.”

It’s not the first time you’ve said it to her, but every time you do, Carmilla looks at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

The two of you seem suspended in time when she looks at you with soft eyes and says, “I love you too, Laura” and kisses you with reverence.

Later, you’ll laugh at the quick shift in tone, but before you can think about it, Carmilla’s hand is toying with the top of your underwear and your mind is void of anything but right here, right now, and Carmilla, Carmilla, _Carmilla_. Her fingers dip and tease much too slowly through the slick heat between your legs and you have to break the kiss to let out a moan.

“If you’re really worried about the noise, though, I can stop if you want. We wouldn’t want to cause a scene by fucking in the ginger squad’s bathroom.” Carmilla starts to move her hand out of your underwear and you grab her wrist, keeping it in place.

“Carmilla Karnstein, I swear to god if you don’t finish what you’ve started I will -- I’ll --”

“You’ll what, cutie? Continue stuttering like an incredible attractive, but hilariously turned on mess?”

“Carm,” you all but whine.

“All you have to do is ask,” she says in that soft sing-song voice she saves for you and you breathe out hard through your nose.

“Fuck me for New Years,” is barely off your lips when Carmilla enters you with two fingers.

Her mouth crashes against yours, effectively swallowing the moan that was threatening to spill from you. Carm’s free hand holds your hip, keeping you steadied, as she thrusts in and out of you. You last an embarrassingly short amount of time -- but, hey, it’s not _your_ fault she’s been working you up all day -- and when you come with a drawn out “Carm-ohhh-milla!” she peppers kisses all over your face until you catch your breath.

On the other side of the door, you can hear glasses clinking and voices shouting “Happy New Year!”

You pull Carmilla in for a lazy kiss before resting your forehead against hers.

“Happy new year, Carm.”

“You too, cupcake.”

[When you and Carmilla re-enter the living room, obviously disheveled and in a post-orgasm haze, LaFontaine just rolls their eyes while Perry bustles past you, no doubt on a mission to scrub down the entire bathroom.]


End file.
